Hotplates
by ShibaInuit
Summary: DOCTOR WING DING GASTER HAS BEEN DECLARED DEAD! In a shocking, tell-all report from King Asgore Dreemurr we learn what became of the good doctor, creator of the core and concealer of dark secrets, including the scandal that ended his career and his life. Crossover of Citizen Kane by Orson Welles and Handplates AU by Zarla. Special thanks to Toby Fox. OC is believable. K for humor


Hotplates

Based on Zarla's AU Handplates

Also based on Citizen Kane

Oh, boy.

* * *

"Doctor Wing Dings Gaster is dead, and monsters around the underground both mourn and scorn his memory. His close associate, Doctor Alphys, had this to say:

'P-Please turn off the cameras-!'

Close footage will reveal that she was concealing a paper under her coat, likely with evidence about the recently discovered clones of the good doctor.

Due to the conflicting legacy of the royal scientist, this reporter will intend to remember his achievements and exploits in this documentary.

Dr. Gaster's career began an unknown amount of time ago, in his youth. According to King Dreemurr, who knew him for a long time, the skeleton race is naturally inquisitive and predisposed to mental pursuits, and Dr. Gaster may just have been the brightest star of his day. In the height of skeleton knowledge, it was said a skeleton could produce entire copies of themselves from midair, creating small armies as numerous as their magical attacks.

This duplication strategy proved vital but flawed in the human and monster war. Outnumbered in every battle, only skeleton armies were large enough to pose heavy enough threats to human forces. Humans were at first less willing to attack monsters that looked so much like themselves, and with disguises, skeletons were able to investigate human territory undercover. Over time these strategies became ineffective, and such armies were defeated. In hardly any time at all, the race's few real members went extinct.

Dr. Gaster, too young at the time of war to fight, worked alongside research greats to develop counter weapons when, like all other monsters, he was trapped in the underground.

Quickly he rose to the top of the crop of new monsters working on ways to defeat the human barrier, moving from home to Snowdin to new home to pursue freedom for us all.

This search, however, went sour. After settling in Hotland he began work on the core project, enlisting scientists from all regions to construct a massive power generator. The work was dangerous, labor intensive, and deadly, leading to almost fifty serious injuries and twenty six casualties overall. Upon the project's completion, Dr. Gaster remained the only living scientist from before the war.

Some suspect treachery and rivalry led to more accidents than necessary, but reliable information remains scarce.

He hired as many assistants as he deemed qualified: one Dr. Alphys, who could present extensive research on technical projects.

Dr. Gaster continued work on Core related infrastructure to assure that vents remained maintained and that puzzle elements could become electrically enhanced in all corners of the underground. Electric overhead lamps helped bring light and heat to Snowdin, making the area inhabitable and leading to the first growths of trees.

Information about his career slowed until recently, when it was discovered that he had been hiding two children in the lowest floors of his laboratory. Both children were discovered to be skeletons, but further information has not been made public to protect them.

Dr. Gaster had this to say after the discovery:

'GET OUT OF MY FACE!'

Shortly after, Dr. Gaster was imprisoned in new home, until he had to be sent to the laboratory to make vital repairs. During the confusion and periodic blackouts, Dr. Gaster leapt into his own creation, the core.

According to reports from Greater Dog, who had been watching him during his house arrest and the repairs, Dr. Gaster's final words were:

'Arf woof yip yoooowwwww!'

We at Canine News Network find his statement to be most tragic.

Dr. Alphys has since been transferred control over the core while King Dreemurr decides who will be the new Royal scientist.

The two children's condition remains unknown. This reporter calls for justice, so that the public can rest easy knowing that two victims, or perhaps, willing participants in scientific progress be properly investigated.

This is Dogarina, signing off."

The newsroom was quiet. What was left to say? The broadcast had already been translated into Temmie Speak and doggish, and was ready to be released into the wild.

"Something's missing."

"A lot's missing, sir. Nobody knows what Dr. Gaster did."

"He made the core. That's the whole reason we have broadcast!"

"He did a lot for us but what about those two boys? Do you think we could get access to them, even indirectly?"

"I want film footage. What we've got is weak. Let's try to set up interviews again."

Groans met this suggestion.

"It might work this time! Come on, Doggerel, you promised you could get more backbone into this. He might have put his entire life into those words."

"Or not."

Doggerel barked something fierce at everyone for a moment before gathering up his aggression. He stood and left, determined to follow orders.

* * *

1 Hour Later, Friday Morning

Alphys' Residence, Dumpster in Hotland

Doggerel's nose tweaked at the smell of overflowing refuse. How any monsters could live here, even with crowding, was beyond him. Maybe the smell got better over time.

He shooed away two curious children, a kitten and a green monster, and proceeded to investigate the abode in question.

A sign on the door of Alphys' dumpster spelled out "No solicitors, please!"

A second sign hastily hammered on below it read, "Unless you want to talk about anime?!"

A passive aggressive post it note below that, "Please don't ask me any questions. I mean, you can, but please don't."

Each message was signed with a cursive A, and the post it note stationery was covered in pink sparkly sequins. Little doodles of a half dragon half panda were scribbled in the margins.

Doggerel knocked at the door gently. He had been here two times already, but third time's the charm, so they say.

The door didn't open at first. He knocked again. Again, there was no response. She must not be home. The reporter sat patiently, waiting for her to come back. He wagged his tail and, when he got bored, began nipping at the air.

In about half an hour, someone approached the dumpster, carrying a tall, brown bag. It was Alphys, carrying in a batch of groceries. The smell of flowers and running water covered her arrival. She must have been at the garbage zone.

Doggerel yipped happily, circling her feet for a moment. She nearly tipped over, but Doggerel leapt up to hold up her bag. She stumbled back, gathering her courage to look around the bag at the interloper.

"O-oh! Doggerel. Hello."

She was shaking like a leaf in the wind.

"Can I help you?" He asked in a delicate woof.

"Ummm... s-sure."

He lifted the bag effortlessly from her arms. Unfortunately, Doggerel was one of those dogs who can't walk on two feet, so he had to rest the bag on his back. Alphys slid open the door to her home and he trotted in afterwards, his feet skipping over the somewhat messy plastic flooring.

"Th-thanks... Umm..."

Alphys clacked her claws, trying to think of something to say.

Doggerel waited purposefully for a few seconds, and did not save her the trouble. She stumbled over her meaning, bumbling around for something to say until she finally mumbled "can I get you anything oh but hey I'm busy I need to work so could... umm..."

Doggerel didn't understand what she wanted, so he lolled his tongue out and yipped a little. Alphys sighed, more at ease.

"Can I get you anything to drink?" She tried again.

"Sure!"

"Like what?"

"A drink!"

She smiled and winced at the same time. Rummaging around in an overhead cabinet in her "kitchen," she retrieved a plastic bowl covered in painted flowers. She filled it with water and set it at Doggerel's height, taking the bag from him.

He lapped it up affectionately.

She relaxed and pulled up a beanbag chair, sitting comfortably at her knee high kitchen table. The bed sat solemnly to her left.

"By the way, how was your trip to the store?" Doggerel asked in between licks. Alphys looked down an suddenly noticed the bag she was already holding.

"It w-was very productive... I forgot... about it."

She began removing metric tons of ramen and miso flavoring. In moments she had filled her fridge with imported soda bottles and Asian discount cooking.

"Thanks for reminding me."

Doggerel had finished by now, and when she turned around, he was sitting in her spot. She was a little too shy to ask him to jump off, so she pulled up the extra chair she used when Undyne came over. It was smaller, but good for kneeling on.

"So," he said, after she had settled in. "Would you mind helping me out with something?"

"Oh! Of course! What... H...how can I help you with?"

She blushed, coughing under her breath. "H-how can I help?"

He smiled. "I just had a few questions for the Canine News Network.

Alphys stopped blushing. In fact, her face made a total reversal from Hapstablook pink to Napstablook pale, and the shaking in her paws stopped dead.

"No."

She said it almost grimly, far out of character for the state of mind Doggerel had meticulously maneuvered her into.

"But I came all this way, and waited-"

"Sorry. I've done enough damage already. Mr. Doggerel, I'm going to have to a-ask you to l-leave."

There it was, her nervous demeanor. She hiccuped.

"I understand, doctor."

She blushed a little again. "J-just..."

He continued over her whimper, "I just wanted to do Doctor Gaster's memory justice. You see, one of his guards overhead his last words... I want to find out what they meant. But... I can tell you're occupied. How about I come back after this weekend? You can figure out what you want to say. He did great work, I know... I think you understand."

She stammered, lost in an abyss of uncertainty and confusion. She did not want to talk, it was plain, but if he assured her that she would do more good than harm, she might be persuaded. His nose sensed a story itching to be told.

"Thank you for your time and hospitality. Good evening!"

He stepped onto the floor and padded out the hall, standing on hind legs to get the door before letting himself out.

Alphys trembled in place.

* * *

The Next Day: Saturday

Throne Room, New Home

Doggerel entered the King's Garden without a second thought. It had always been open to visitors, and he King didn't get many nowadays. He might appreciate company and be a bit more... Cooperative.

He sniffed a few of the golden flowers, huffing out a petite sneeze.

King Asgore wasn't in the room.

"Hello?" Doggerel yipped out. Nobody answered. Everything was dead silent.

Doggerel sniffed the air. King Dreemurr had been here today, as his scent was fresh. Additionally, his nose indicated that the King was somewhere nearby, perhaps even watching.

He needed to lure the King out somehow...

He did the sensible dog thing and lifted his leg, aiming towards the flowers, when he heard the thump of large footsteps.

 _Gotcha_.

"EXCUSE ME-! Oh."

Doggerel sat patiently, wagging his tail.

"W-well... This is a surprise, mister."

"Doggerel. Mr Doggerel."

"Oh of course, from the... CNN, was it?"

"Canine News Network, sir."

"Of course." He had already said that.

Doggerel cut to the chase, he needed information. "King Dreemurr, I need some advice."

"Oh! I would be happy to try, but an old goat like me might not be very helpful."

"Thank you, sir. I was wondering... With the recent tragedy..."

Asgore's face darkened.

"One of the guards heard his final words. I don't think I understood them very well. I want to shed some light on Gaster's character, and give him the proper credit he deserves as an innovator, as a gifted individual, and as a good monster."

Asgore waited as Doggerel gathered his breath.

"Could you direct me to the Royal library to read some of his writings?"

Asgore seemed surprised. Nobody had asked about any library before.

"A library, you say?"

"Yes. Any of his research notes and writings that you might be willing to let me see."

"No." His face hardened up again.

Doggerel put on his saddest, cutest puppy eyes.

"Please? Please oh please oh please?"

The king turned away.

"I don't think you need to see them to write what you're going to."

"Sir-"

"Please listen to me." Asgore knelt to Doggerel, knee-to-eye.

"I don't want his legacy to endure anything else."

"I understand," Doggerel whined, lowering his head. "I'm sorry for wasting your time."

He sauntered out, hoping that his dragging tail might induce a little sympathy from his leader. Waiting the precise amount of seconds for the effect to kick in, he turned around, and with big, brown eyes made one last entreaty.

"How about I don't read them as a newspaper dog, but as a friend? I might find some leads, and never mention his writings at all."

Asgore, the big softy, was thinking it over.

"Maybe. Do I have your word you won't quote anything?"

"Of course!"

"Hmm... Well, to be fair, I don't really keep a library. All of his research notes were in his laboratory. There is one thing, though. I have a few... d... di..." The king swallowed heavily.

"Dye?"

"d-diary entries."

"Of his?"

"They're mine."

"Oh!"

Asgore shuffled his cape a bit. "But I'm going to pick out all the important parts. Come with me."

Doggerel smiled, following-the-leader back out of the throne room hall to Asgore's house. He waited patiently by the gently crackling fireplace until Asgore returned from the far left hall with a stack of unbound papers and a few journals.

"I'm not sure how much of this is going to be helpful." The stack was already taller than Doggerel.

"I'm going to have to look at these first. You know how it is."

"I don't."

The King chuckled. "Well, don't worry. I'll get the rest of them."

Doggerel's jaw dropped as the king toted in another stack the same size. And another. And another. And another.

6 more fat stacks eventually made their way into the room for a total of 10 reams of reams.

"How much of this is about Doctor-"

Asgore silenced him with a look that could crush nations. He took a moment to think, hands clasped as if in prayer. Some of the papers began floating.

The sheets split themselves into piles. Each stack sorted itself, while the king looked deep in concentration. Doggerel contented himself to sit quietly, paws on the floor. He scratched behind his neck with his hind leg, tongue panting as the fire gently toasted his back.

It seemed like decades passed. Maybe half of the day had gone by.

"Here."

King Asgore handed down a few items.

Three papers.

"Not many entries about him, huh?"

"These are the ones that he liked."

"Three? Just three?" Doggerel squinted accusatorially. "In just one of those big stacks?"

"In _all of them_. If it's too many, I can have them back."

"Thank you, sir. If this is all of them, I'm sure they are meaningful. Was he a skeleton of few words?"

"No. I am."

Doggerel nodded, even though Asgore wasn't a skeleton. There were several pages, at least. Not too much, but hopefully not too little. Asgore returned to sorting, evidently for his own reasons.

The reporter looked at the first page under his paw.

"Mt Ebott. 201X. Nice day today."

The rest of the paper was blank.

Doggerel took a moment to drink in the emptiness of it. Blank, pure, untouched like a snow poff.

And just as useless as one, too.

"Is there a trick to making everything else appear?" He asked, after a while.

"Nope. That's the whole thing. The weather was very nice that day."

"What was it like?"

"Oh, you know. Nice. There was a little wind, a lot of warm sun. But not too hot. Just right."

"Don't you get hot in that cape? It would trap the heat in. And your fur, too."

"I suppose it might."

"Does it?"

"It might."

Doggerel didn't want to be frustrated, but he was.

"Is there usually wind?"

"Sometimes."

"How about music?"

"What do you mean? Sorry, I cannot tell."

"I mean, do you ever play music? It's quiet in here."

"Oh."

Asgore contemplated for a moment. He eased back in his chair. The stacks fluffled in mid air a moment before setting down as though taking a break.

"I suppose I might try it. I've never thought of it before."

"You've never thought of listening to music?"

"Oh no, no. I thought you meant me playing music in here, on an instrument myself. I can always enjoy a good sonata. I do happen to like quiet."

Doggerel sniffed a little dust out from his left nostril and continued into the second entry. It took up the full page and half of the back, thankfully. The handwriting was a little large, though.

"Home. 199X. Today I appointed my new Royal scientist. As we continue expanding from home outwards into the tunnels, I have drafted him to help us find solutions to safety issues, and ask that he and his team take an oath to defend and free all monsters. He has agreed to find us a good solution for replacing crystal lights and lanterns. He promises that once his major project is completed, significant strides will be made in understanding the barrier. I'm not sure what he means, but it all sounds lovely." The entries kept ending at the worst moments.

"So, they took an oath?"

Asgore was asleep on the couch and didn't answer.

Doggerel studied this one for a long time. He knew it was no-good; he didn't need more evidence that the doctor had forgotten ethics. Maybe if he could obtain a copy of the oath he could read it and decipher Dr. Gaster's mindset. Maybe his cloning experiments were the best way to protect normal citizens. It did say in one of the reports that they weren't supposed to be sentient.

Doggerel screwed his courage and flipped over the final entry in the stack. A little bit of slobber had gotten on it, which he pawed away.

"Mt Ebott. 200X. Today marks completion of the core. It has been a long road, but how long, Dr. Gaster keeps concealed. He put himself through more hours of non-stop work than any monster could endure. There are dark circles under his eye sockets. His eye sockets are also dark circles.

I have full faith that he will continue working on other projects in the meantime that may free us. I wish him the best of luck."

Doggerel almost screamed.

"King Asgore?"

The king was fast asleep. With a tiptoe step, Doggerel approached the table of papers. He put his nose to the edge, smelling the old and new scents. They reeked of Asgore.

There was another smell, one he did not recognize. It was like Asgore, but daintier. That must have been the queen, but nobody had seen her in years.

Doggerel began reading the stacks of paper. They churned out facts about botany and plant husbandry, as well as an ode to the common typha, colloquially called "water sausage." Asgore slept as soundly as a fish under anaesthetic.

Finally, he came to a useful page.

"Laboratory. 200X. Doctor Gaster and his assistant Alphys revealed to me a latest project with the collected human souls. I hardly understood the technicalities, but the blueprints look very promising. Doctor Gaster seemed to have more he wished to express, but asked that we reconvene another time this week. I suggested we meet over some golden flower tea next week at his convenience. He accepted. I look forward to hearing his ordinarily guarded thoughts.

I should burn this entry, but for history's sake I preserve it. If this is the beginning of our freedom, I want it to live on."

Doggerel finally had something, but it wasn't enough. He had to know what happened at that meeting. What was the project? Was the information nearby? Had it already been burned, particularly was it worth burning?

"Well. I let you see my deepest thoughts, and this is how you repay me."

Doggerel did not leap, did not rotate slowly, or panic. He turned around as cheerfully as he could manage.

King Asgore's withering stare was not something he ever wanted to see again in his lifetime.

Doggerel grinned mischievously. "Oh, I'm sorry, but I just couldn't help-"

A meaty paw around his neck cut him off. Asgore lifted Doggerel miles into the air, holding him aloft by the nape, like a mother scolding a child.

This didn't quite feel like a scolding, though.

"Did you learn anything useful?"

Doggerel whimpered out a hoarse "no."

Asgore shook him in midair, wiggling around the contents of his brain.

"How about now? Tell me exactly what you saw, or else."

"Y-you can't th-"

Another shake.

"Come on, spit it out! Doggerel, I trusted you! I should have known better."

The stack of papers occluded themselves before Doggerel's unfocused eyes. He yipped pitifully, but this time, Asgore was not moved to sympathy. His own eyes were wide with trembling aggression.

"How hard was it to keep your nose to three pages?"

"It wasn't enough-"

More shaking. If this kept up Doggerel was going to puke his guts on the carpet, and surely Asgore wouldn't let him lick it up.

"Ok! Yo-o-u-re ri-i-i-ight!" He cried between vibrations. Asgore slowed, returning his evil gaze.

"Ar-aright...alright." Doggerel faced his King. "I'm a... bad dog." He lowered his ears in mostly genuine shame.

"You are a bad dog, Doggerel. What am I going to have to do with you?"

Doggerel whined. "Please don't. I'll leave."

"Not yet, you aren't. Tell me what you read, all of it."

Doggerel pointed to the three scraps, and then the several entries he had stumbled upon before Asgore awoke.

"And that's all of them, sir."

"What was on them?"

"Plant information... Uhm, you said some stuff about the doctor, an oath he took, and when he finished the core... And the last one was about a project he was debuting. He said he wanted to... Meet over tea?"

Asgore shut his eyes in consternation. That one. He really should have burned it after all, but now it was too late. He silently arrived at a fitting verdict for his victim.

"Sir..?"

"Shush."

Doggerel did.

"Now. I'm going to set you on the ground. And then I need you to sit, and stay. Will you?"

Doggerel looked shiftily around. The door was open, so there was an easy escape route, if only he were faster than Asgore.

"Don't think you can run out faster than I can close the door."

Doggerel winced. "Yessir."

Asgore harrumphed, setting down Doggerel. Though every instinct begged him to run, he sat patiently. Asgore gave no approving nod, instead walking solemnly to the door and locking it.

"Now. You read a paper that was very important to me. I don't think I can stress how much it pains me to know you snooped on my privacy. But instead of following that instinct, I will offer you one more chance."

Doggerel's tail whapped gleefully against the carpet.

"I am going to answer just one of your questions. After that, if you decide to betray my trust again and use any of the text in these journals, you will face my wrath. Is. That. _Clear_."

"Crystal!"

"Ask your question."

Doggerel had to clamp over his own mouth from asking the most obvious. Asgore glared purposefully.

"Ok. I have my question."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, sir. Where can I learn more about Gaster's oath and his projects?"

"No."

Doggerel waited, puppy eyes at half tilt.

"There's nowhere you can go. The only two people who know are me and the doctor, and you can't talk to either of them anymore. Now scram."

Asgore grabbed Doggerel, who was yipping out responses, and hauled him to the door. Out he went, through the throne room to the gate of his house.

"Run along, now."

Asgore set him outside and locked the door.

Doggerel felt horrible. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen at all. Who was left to ask? Was this Asgore's idea of a punishment?

Gaster had no assistants. Nobody knew where the clone children were being kept. Nobody even know who was trustworthy enough to keep them. Where would Asgore send a pair of unloved children?

Oh.

Her.

* * *

A/N

The dog in the igloo looks happy about something. It is typing animatedly on its phone. Your curiosity gets the better of you.

"What story are you writing, anyway?"

"Simple," it barks. "A good one. Now, let me focus. I'll let you know when I'm at a good stopping point. Oh, and can you check on my ramen?"

You totally forgot about the noodles boiling on the stove. You check the bubbly water. The noodles are still al-dente. You wonder if it likes crunchy noodles. You doubt so.

"Ok. It's ok. They're ok"

It seems to get your message.

"Anyway, chapter two is coming up for this one, and I have no idea why I made a crossover this ludicrous."

You give up on pretending to understand. The dog might be insane. How should you know what story it refers to?


End file.
